


Sympathetic Reflections

by zinjadu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3887248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Natasha Romanov and Wanda Maximoff have a lot in common, and in the process of working together, they find that friendship can help make everything else a lot easier to handle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “... the minds of men are mirrors to one another…” --David Hume

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, could only stare at the screen after the _other guy_ had turned it off on his end.  Part of her could not believe it, could not believe that he had run away without her.  Running away, she could understand, they had both wanted to run away, but their timing never seemed right.  They never matched up.  

 

Sitting in the sterile helicarrier, she knew she should not feel this way, should not feel so rejected, so hurt.  It was to be expected, once they saw what she was, they could not stay.  She should not feel as though her heart had been torn out.

 

Once that thought passed through her mind, she had the hunch that perhaps not all her self-recriminating thoughts were her own.  It felt too much like when the witch had gotten into her mind and turned her inside out.  

 

Getting out of her chair, she made her way to the captain’s room.  She heard, she felt, the witch before she saw her, the grief pouring out of the other woman as though it would never stop.  She was cradled in the android’s arms, crying and raging, because the one constant in her life was now gone.  Natasha staggered as she entered the room, the psychic onslaught almost too much.  Even the android looked concerned.  

 

And then Clint was there, like he always was when a child cried out in pain, and for the first time Natasha saw Wanda for the seventeen year old girl that she really was.  Clint took the girl from the android, though it still seemed to be worried about Wanda.  It backed away, letting Clint hold the girl, making nonsense comforting noises to her like he would with Lila.  

 

Everyone else stayed away.  Everyone else did not know how to handle an enemy turned ally, turned grieving sister.  The android noticed Natasha by the door and approached her softly.  “There is one more unit of Ultron left, but,” it glanced at Wanda, still inconsolable.  “But I am not sure it wise to leave Miss Maximoff alone.”

 

That caught her off guard.  Although she had intellectually accepted that perhaps it was actually alive, expressing emotions seemed to try her understanding.  Still, she was an agent.  She nodded.  “She’s an Avenger, we’ll look after her.  You sure you can handle the last Ultron on your own?  You want any back up?”

 

It gave her a sad smile.  “No, I do not believe I shall require assistance, Agent Romanov.  The last Ultron unit is damaged and quite unable to fight.  And, I confess, I wish to speak to him, to try to talk to him one last time.”

 

“Yeah, alright,” she said, unsure what else she could do, and watched the andriod walk away.  Then she turned her attention to the crying girl and knelt down beside her best friend.  Clint shot her a quick glance of thanks, the grief was almost overwhelming, pouring off of the young woman.

 

Clint did most of the work, shushing the girl, comforting her, and Natasha did her best to support him; for all her skill at manipulating the emotions of others, she had never learned how to deal with this kind of raw nerve reaction.  Eventually, Wanda cried herself out, and they found a quiet place for her to sleep.

 

As they left Wanda to her troubled dreams, they turned to each other, almost simultaneously: “How’re you holding up?” they asked.  Clint shook his head, then nodded to her, _you go first._

 

“We won, and I guess that will have to be enough,” she said.  Clint raised his eyebrows at her, a look more suggestive than whatever he might say.  She shook her head.  “I’ll be fine, I’ll deal.  Maybe I’ll look for him, maybe I won’t.  Don’t want to make that choice yet, and either way, I think I finally realized that I can’t leave this job, not yet.”

 

“The red in your ledger?” he asked.

 

“That, and somewhere along the way, I guess when it comes down to it, I’ll always run toward the fight,” she said, and felt right about saying it.  She was a fighter, always would be, maybe always would have been regardless of her horrific childhood training.  She inclined her head at him, _now you._

 

“I thought I was dead,” he said softly.  “Thought that was it, but then that damn kid played hero.  I get it, I’m a soldier, it’s what we do for each other in a fight, but damn it.  He was just a kid.”

 

“They both were,” she said.

 

“Were, yeah.  He’s dead, and I don’t think she’s a kid anymore.”  There was an obscure kind of regret in his eyes, and she would have bet it mirrored her own.

 

“No, I don’t think she is either.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Because of course there was a facility already waiting for them when they returned.   _Americans,_ Wanda thought, with no small amount of derision, closely followed by, _and Stark_.  

 

After her original bout of grief, of soul-wrenching horror, she did her best to keep her emotions carefully controlled.  She saw what happened when she let her control slip, her anger and sorrow infecting the others like a disease.  In spite of her wariness, she did not want to hurt these people, not anymore.  She simply wanted to train and forget.

 

But she could not forget.  Some days she drowned in memories, fighting to stay in reality, although that was becoming more difficult to discern.  This had never been a problem while Pietro was alive.  He tethered to her the world, his mind so close to her own, so familiar that it gave her a focal point, a place from which all other reality could be reached.  When the experiments started working, she had only her brother to keep her connected, and the same was true of him. Without her to come back to, he might have run forever.

 

She thought Clint might have been able to help, his mind was similar to her brother’s, brave, bold, a fighter.  But as soon as they landed, Clint received a communication from his family: his wife was in labour.  A quick good-bye, making sure she was installed in a room at the new Avenger’s bunker, a longer good-bye to Agent Romanov, and then he was gone.

 

Everyone watched her, everyone seemed to scrutinize her.  Captain America might have done so only because he was a leader, but she knew he was weighing her up, evaluating her.  Sam and Rhodey, they were unsure how to approach her, though they were at least polite.  The rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. staff avoided her, though she could not help but overhear them at times, hear them say with her voices and in their minds, _witch_.  They shied away from her like frightened animals, because gods with lightning hammers they could handle: reality altering mental powers were something else.

 

There were only two who watched her without fear, confusion, or evaluation.  One of them she did not know what to do about.  He was too kind, too innocent, and he saw too much.  Vision had saved her from that wrecked train car, plucking her from the very jaws of death while she raged in grief.  For all that she thought him a good man, she did not want to be seen so clearly.  It unnerved her, for the only one who had ever known her, truly, had been her brother.  She did not wish to be known.

 

Then there was Agent Romanov--

 

\--the blow to the side of her ribcage _hurt_.  Wanda grunted in pain, and shot the other woman an angry glare.  Romanov was not intimidated.

 

“You might be able to mess with my brain, but trust me, I’ve dealt with people with more anger issues than you,” she said.  There was an obscure pain there, Wanda could sense it, and she knew Romanov had cared for Doctor Banner.  Doctor Banner who was God knew where.  But the pain did not overwhelm the other woman, it did not cause her to lose touch with who she was.  She continued talking, “You’ve got to pay more attention, Wanda.  Your abilities are impressive, but you won’t go back into the field until you can at least hold your own in hand-to-hand.”

 

“Yes, I know,” she said, grimacing as she stood.  “I will not become distracted again.”  Then she lunged forward, Romanov easily sidestepping her.  They spared for an hour, Wanda feeling like she had improved at least a little in her time here.  She actually managed to score a fair touch today.

 

“Better, and you’ve been doing well in your other physical conditioning as well,” Romanov told her, throwing her a towel as they headed to the changing room.  “What about your other mental training, and your studies?”

 

“I do not understand why you care so much about me earning some meaningless degree.  Is it not enough that I do this?” she asked, waving her hand at the facility in general, indicating her work as an Avenger.

 

“No, no its not,” Romanov said, her eyes losing their hard edge.  “Its about you having choices.  Sure, you’re an Avenger, and you’re turning into a hell of a fighter, but that’s not all that life is.  Having that degree means you have options, because one day you might not want to do this anymore.”

 

“Choices?” Wanda nearly spat the word.  “All choices are limited, and the ones I have made, they were never good.  I chose to volunteer for those experiments, I chose to meet Ultron, I chose to switch sides, and my brother died for my choices.  I think I am done with choices.”

 

Romanov tensed, and Wanda could tell that the other woman was holding herself back from physical violence.  “Don’t you dare.  First, if your brother made the choice to follow you, respect that choice, don’t put all that guilt on you.  It demeans the choices _he_ made.  Second, count your lucky stars you’ve had so many choices, that you haven’t been robbed of them, not really, not once.  Limited, maybe, but never without choice.  You do not know what it is to truly have all your choices taken away from you.”

 

Wanda could only stare, frighted like a small animal, before the fury of Agent Romanov.  She looked away, unable to meet the other woman’s gaze.  Maybe Romanov was right, maybe but it did not fix the hollow space inside her heart.  Nothing ever would.

 

Romanov sighed, and relaxed.  “Sorry, its a sore spot for me, that kind of thing.  Just… think about getting the degree, will you?  You might find it comes in handy.”

 

“I will,” Wanda said, acquiescing.

 

“And your mental training?  Have you started?” Romanov asked.  They started walking again, entering the locker room, which was mostly their own private locker room.  Wanda liked that about this place at least, the privacy.

 

“I do what I can,” Wanda said.  “It is not always easy, it is… reality is not always easy to find.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Wanda started as she could feel the other woman’s concern.

 

“It is difficult to explain,” she said.  “But it is harder to find my way back, harder and harder,” she said quietly.  “I need a… a guiding star.  Pietro… he was that for me.”

 

“Could you use me as… guide?” Romanov asked, and Wanda could feel the other woman’s fear, the recalled horror of being made to relieve a terrifying memory.  Wanda then realized that it took every scrap of courage for the woman to offer.

 

“Even after what I did to you, what I did to everyone, you would make this offer?”

 

“We’re on the same team now, Wanda, this is what we do for each other.”

 

“Then… yes, I think that could work.  Thank you, Agent Romanov,” Wanda said, and for the first time, she meant it.  She was not alone, not completely, not anymore.

 

“Natasha,” she said, smiling.  “Call me Natasha.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long chapter, didn't seem right to break this one up into smaller chunks.

Natasha sat opposite Wanda in the meditation room.  It was rarely used, and she had booked it out for the afternoon.  Part of her was screaming to leave, to get out, to not let the other woman near her mind ever again, but she did her best to quash it, to shut it away.  She needed to stay, though, because she could never pay Clint back, but she could do for Wanda what had been done for her.  Support, help, be there.

 

“Alright,” she said, maintaining her calm as best as she could.  “How’s this going to work?”

 

“It is… difficult to explain.  My abilities…” Wanda trailed off, thoughtful.  “The doctors had all sorts of words, but what I do is impose my will on the world.  When I move things with my mind, it is because that is what I want the object to do, and I must want it, command it more than the forces reality exerts upon the object.  It takes a good deal of effort.  Influencing another mind is much easier, minds are more malleable.”

 

“That’s terrifying,” Natasha drawled, and smirked to take the sting out of it.  She was aware how people looked at the young woman.  Save the actual Avengers team, they were afraid of her and what she could do.

 

“Ha,” Wanda huffed, her tone dark.  “Yes, it is.  But I will not influence your mind.  I need to learn… control.  I need to learn how to return to reality when I have, what is the phrase from that book… ah, gone down the rabbit hole.”  Wanda mirrored Natasha’s smirk.

 

“Sounds like you can self-induce a drug trip,” Natasha said.  Wanda nodded.

 

“It is like that, yes, and I need to learn how to get myself out of it.  I have not done this since Pietro.  It will not be as easy as it once was.”

 

“So, you’re saying reality and the rabbit hole are hard to tell apart when you’re in the middle of it?” she asked.  

 

“Yes, that is a good way to think of it,” Wanda agreed.  “With your mind here, I will use that as a focus for reality.  You will not be a part of my mental construct, so you will act like a beacon for me.  Just try to keep your mind open.”

 

“Then we should get started,” Natasha said.  Then, without even thinking about it, she reached out and held the other woman’s hand.  “I’ll be right here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Wanda nodded, squeezed Natasha’s hand, and settled into her own mind.  Natasha watched from the outside, unable to know if Wanda was holding it together in her own mind.  All she could do was sit and wait.

 

***

It was all wrong.

 

Wrong.  Twisted.

 

“You know you are twelve minutes younger than me,” he said, blood oozing out of the bullet holes in his chest.  His hands, suddenly around her throat.  “What gave you the right?”

 

Air, gone, no, not happening.  Not real.  Find Natasha’s mind, find the beacon.  Wanda flailed her mind reaching out, it was so far away.

 

***

Natasha felt Wanda trying to reach her, like a child flailing in pain and hurting those trying to help.  The pain was sharp, fast, like a blow to the forehead.  She winced but held on, fingers tightening around Wanda’s hand.  “Come on, kid, fight, I’m here.”

 

***

“So small, so breakable,” Ultron drawled.  The robot’s cold, sterile finger traced a circle on her breast, above her heart.  “You have lost someone, but you do not know what it is to have your heart ripped out.”  It drove its fingers into her.  “Allow me to demonstrate.”

 

The fingers twisted.

 

She screamed.

 

She reached, and found her guiding light, and grabbed hold.

 

Then it all fell down.

 

***

Natasha echoed Wanda’s scream as she was pulled into the other woman’s mind, the cold, metal fingers digging into her chest, twisting her heart out of her chest.  Ultron started down at her, and them, they echoed and reverberated together, a pain and horror in perfect harmony.

 

Then there was another presence.  Something calm, and still, and deep.  Something patient, and careful, and gentle.  It banished Ultron, the machine disappearing in a haze of red mist, then separated the minds of the two women, placing each where it belonged.

 

Natasha snapped back to herself, eyes opening wide as she saw Vision kneeling beside them both, its hands around their clasped ones.  Wanda inhaled sharply, snatching her hand away.  Then she ran.  Vision stood, apparently ready to launch himself after the young woman.  It caught itself and looked at her, a question in its eyes.

 

“Go,” she said, waving the android on.  “I’ll be fine, just reach her.”  The android nodded and sped away.

 

***

Wanda ran, ran out of the facility, doors opening before her without a touch, people scattering out of her path.  She made it as far as the treeline before Vision caught up to her.  He did not overtake her, did not stop her, did not do anything, but speak.  

 

“Please,” he said.  All he said was please, but that single word was laced with all the concern in the world.  She stopped, but could not face him.  He did not draw closer, he simply stood where he landed and continued to speak.  “Agent Romanov will be well, she will just need some time to recover.  She knows this was not your fault, Miss Maximoff, she does not blame you.”

 

“It was my fault,” she spat, turning to face him.  That had possibly been a bad idea, for in his eyes she saw something she could not define.  “I lacked the control, I brought her into my problem.  I should not have done that.  I need to learn to do these things on my own.  And I hurt her, one of the only friends I have in this world?  My other friend, he is her best friend, and what do you think he will do when he learns of what I did?  No one would wish such a friend as me.”  It all poured out of her in a flood, a rush of words she felt almost powerless to stop.  

 

“I am sorry, Miss Maximoff, but I believe you are mistaken.  They know you face certain troubles, but that makes them no less inclined to be your friend, to care for you.  Neither,” he said, his crisp voice softening at the edges.  “are they the only ones who care for you.  You would have more friends if you did not avoid the rest of the team.”

 

She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to keep the truth of his words away from her.  “You cannot know that.”

 

“I can, and I do,” he said.  Vision did not lie, but she did not want to believe it.  That would make her quasi-isolation silly and childish.  

 

“No,” he said, “never that.”  She looked up at him sharply, but he held up his hands in apology.  “Please, forgive me, Miss Maximoff, but you project a great deal at times like this.  To one such as myself, it is difficult to not hear.  You act from a place of great sorrow and deep pain, perhaps to such an extent your conscious mind cannot fully process it.”

 

“Then what can I do?  I cannot live like this, I cannot…” she drew a deep shuddering breath.  “I should not have let Natasha help me, I should have known.”

 

“Perhaps, though I believe she would have insisted upon aiding you regardless.  However, there is another option.”

 

“You?” she asked.

 

“Yes.  I believe I could withstand your psychic turbulence, shall we say.  I could provide a stable connection that you could use to navigate the difference between reality and chaos,” he said.  Even with all his kindness, some part of her wanted to run, to run away and never try again.  But she knew what Natasha would say to that, what Clint would say.  Worse, she knew what her brother would have said.

 

“You will not like what you see, when you look at me.  You will think me less, when you see what is in my mind,” she whispered.  

 

“No, Miss Maximoff, I do not think so,” he said.  She stood there, ten feet from him, for he had still not moved, considering.  She thought him still too innocent, for all the knowledge and power at his command, and she knew he would see parts of her better left alone.  She would have to trust him as implicitly as she had trusted Pietro if this was to work.  

 

“I would like to go back to the facility now, but we will walk,” she said, and then strode forward, retracing her steps.  Vision kept pace with her easily, staying close but never touching, never crowding.

 

“I will work with you.  I should have gone to you first, but…” she trailed off.

 

“You fear what I would have seen in you,” he finished.  She nodded.  He was silent for a few moments.  “Why?  I do not mean to be rude, of course, but you seem to trust Agent Barton, and you were willing to chance Agent Romanov seeing inside your mind.  What is so different about me?”  Then he nodded his head, and she could have sworn he smirked.  “Aside from the obvious, of course.”

 

“I do not know, all I know is that you are different.  You thought me worth saving, and perhaps all I wanted was for there to be one person in the world who thought I was worthy, that I was good enough to save.”

 

He began to reply, but Natasha appeared in the doorway of the facility.  “Wanda, there you are!” she said, walking up to the other woman.  “You going to stay?”

 

“Yes,” she said.  “I am sorry, Natasha, I am so…” she drew a shuddering breath.  Natasha touched her on the shoulder.    
  


“Hey, its alright.  Mistakes happen.  I thought I could handle it.  Clearly not.  What matters is that you came back.”

 

“I am beginning to believe that,” Wanda said.  “I hope I have not missed dinner.  I think, I think I should begin to eat with the team.”  Natasha grinned at that.

 

“Sounds like a great idea, come on,” the red-haired woman walked back to the door, leading the way.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered to Vision.

 

“Of course, Miss--” he began to say, but she stopped him by taking hold of his hand briefly.

 

“Wanda, please call me Wanda.  You need not be so formal, Vision,” she said, giving him a small smile.  Trust, she was finding, was as liberating as it was terrifying.  An odd mixture, that.  Then his smile echoed her own.

 

“Of course, Wanda.”

 

“Hurry up, you two,” Natasha said from a few paces ahead, “If we take too long they’ll be out of dessert.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha approved that Wanda had finally started taking her dinners with the rest of the team.  She was still somewhat withdrawn from the rest of them, but she laughed at Rhodey’s stories and sympathized with Sam’s work with veterans.  And every once and a while she smiled, a full, bright smile that lacked the edges of grief.

 

It was good to see, though Natasha still took point on training the other woman.  She had once suggested they bring in Steve to test her a little, but Wanda paled.  

 

“He wouldn’t hurt you,” Natasha said.  “He’s a hell of a hand to hand fighter, and you need to learn how to fight people bigger and much stronger than you.”

 

“Perhaps, but not just yet, please?  I… I do not wish to embarrass myself.”

 

“Everyone has to learn somewhere,” she urged.  “But fine, I don’t push you on this.  Yet.”  She gave Wanda a pointed look, _but I will one day, and soon_.  Wanda nodded, and redoubled her efforts.

 

The training she did with Vision also took up a good deal of the young woman’s time.  Natasha recalled her attempt at aiding Wanda in that, and could not help but be curious.  So she asked, one day, after a long day of training and after the rest of the team had gone their own way.

 

“This is a ‘girl’s night’ then?  We sit and talk and drink wine?” Wanda asked, curling up on the sofa in Natasha’s quarters.

 

“Pretty much.  Laura, Clint’s wife, did this to me a lot.  I wasn’t sure about it at first, but there’s something to be said for spending time with a friend like this,” Natasha said, taking a sip of wine.

 

“And if we talk here, I can have wine without Captain Rogers becoming upset about the fact that I am too young to legally drink in America.  Bah, what a stupid country.  They love excess, but fear to expose their children to it.  Yet, their children find a way,” Wanda said.  Natasha raised an eyebrow at that.

 

“Have you been watching American TV?” she asked, amused.

 

“Yes, a little.  Vision watches movies and television.  He claims it helps him better understand humans.  He reads a great deal as well, and I think he prefers books to programs in general,” Wanda said, brightening slightly.  

 

“About Vision, how is your training with, him, I guess,” she said, adopting Wanda’s use of the male pronoun for the android.  Most of the team did that now, but at first the appellation of ‘it’ seemed safer.  

 

“Him, yes.”  Wanda picked at the fabric of the sofa, looking away as she answered.  “It is difficult, still.  Vision is not Pietro.  We only, my brother and I, we were close because we only had each other.  He was my tether to reality, and that closeness is impossible to match with someone I have known for only three weeks.  So it is different, but not impossible.  Vision’s mind is… bah, I do not know how to explain it!” Wanda exclaimed, waving her free hand in frustration.  

 

“Explain what?” Natasha asked.

 

“How minds feel to me,” Wanda said.  “Your mind is calm on the surface, but underneath I can feel… much activity.  You feel deeply and fiercely, but you do not wish this to be known.  Captain Rogers is much the same way.  Colonel Rhodes is bright, sharp, with a strong centre.  Mister Wilson is somewhere between.”

 

“That sounds like it would be amazing and terrifying all at the same time,” Natasha said.  “People portray themselves as one thing, but you can sense it all underneath.  I can see some of that, the body language and facial cues they don’t realise they’re giving off, but you feel it.  I can’t imagine.”

 

“Yes.  But Pietro was different.  He was as he appeared to be,” Wanda said.  “Vision is like that, there is no disconnect, but I am not close to him as I was my brother.  Perhaps in time, it will become easier.  I work to gain control for myself, to not rely on anyone in this way.  It would be a problem in the field, I know this.”

 

“Hey,” Natasha said, “we don’t talk about the field during girl’s nights.  Laura’s rule.  Except when there’s a funny story, that’s acceptable.”  She smiled, and Wanda grinned back.

 

“Laura Barton sounds like a formidable woman. I would like to meet her one day,” Wanda said.

 

“Well, you might have a chance to do that.  I’m planning on going up soon to see the new baby.  You might be welcome.”

 

“Oh no, I could not…” Wanda said, eyes wide.  

 

“Up to you, of course,” Natasha said.  She quickly deflected the topic to other things, but she had seen how afraid Wanda had been of going to the Barton’s home.  The why of it she could guess: the young woman could not help but be reminded of all that she had lost in the middle of that house.  Never mind that Clint and Laura had already told Natasha that Wanda was already invited.  This might be tricky to manage.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You and me,” Natasha said, sitting down next to Wanda in the library.  “We’re going on a little trip.”  Wanda looked up from her books, still studying to take the exam for the General Education Degree.  She did not care for the exam, nor the horrible American biases she found in the civics and history sections, but it would give her more choices.  She was beginning to appreciate having choice.

 

“Where?” she asked.  “And why?”  Natasha smiled.

 

“You’ll see when we get there,” the former assassin said, smiling.  Wanda narrowed her eyes.  She liked Natasha, truly, and if she had to admit it to herself, considered the other woman a friend.  But she had learned to never trust Natasha when she smiled; that was when she was most dangerous.  That was how Wanda ended up with most of her bruises in training.

 

Still, she was beginning to feel cut off from the rest of the world.  After all, she did not have other family or friends to visit, as the others did.  There was no reason for her to leave.

 

“Fine,” she said.  “But you must tell me what I will need to pack.”

 

***

Whatever Wanda had expected, it had not been the Barton family farm.  It was fresh, and clean, and so full of life and family that she did not know what to do with herself.  Clint and his wife greeted Natasha warmly, and the older children ran up to the other woman with delighted cries of “Auntie Nat!” that made Wanda briefly jealous.  Then they turned to her, the interloper, the witch in the middle of a happy family.

 

“Wanda, don’t just stand there, come on in, take a seat.  We’re happy to have you here,” Mrs. Barton said, her new son in her arms.  Wanda took a seat, and tried not to wonder if her life might have been like this, save for that shell that destroyed her home and her childhood.

 

“Thank you.  I do not want to appear ungrateful, but I cannot help but wonder why you asked me to be here,” she said.  Mrs. Barton smiled at her and sat next to her, the baby drowsy and content.

 

“Laura insisted,” Clint said, taking the chair opposite Wanda.  “And I happened to agree.”

 

“You always agree,” Natasha said teasingly.

 

“That’s because my wife is always right,” Clint said.  “Or at least she is when she’s within hearing distance.”  He smiled, his lopsided crooked grin, and she knew why this man and her brother had not gotten along: they were so alike.

 

“Sucking up won’t get you out of diaper duty, honey,” Mrs. Barton said.  “And I think we should answer Wanda’s question.”  The older woman turned towards her after she had neatly cut off the friendly bickering.  “I didn’t know your brother, but I do know he’s the reason my husband is still alive, and the reason my children still have a father.  His first name is Nathaniel, for Natasha, but we thought that his middle name should be Pietro.  We wanted you to know that we will never forget what your brother did for this family, and that you will always be welcome here.”

 

Mrs. Barton’s voice was soft, soothing, a mother’s voice.  A voice Wanda lost many years ago.  And there, in her arms, was her brother’s legacy, a boy who would have a father.  In that moment she could feel the last of the pain receding into the background.  It would always be there, but her brother gave his life so another child would not grow up without a parent.  It was a sacrifice he would have been proud to make.  Tears fell, and she did not try to hide them.

 

“Thank you,” she said.  “Thank you.”

 

“Would you like to hold him?” Mrs. Barton asked.  Then, without waiting for a reply, she placed the boy in Wanda’s arms.  The weight of him, his warmth and gentle mind surprised her.  She could sense him, like she did other people, but it was faint, and full of small things.  

 

“Hello,” she said to him softly.  “You are named for two people who, perhaps, did not have the best start in life.  That is something I know about.  But both of those people learned how to make their own choices, and they became heroes.  Know that, little one, you bear the names of heroes.”

 

The room was quiet after that, and Wanda looked at the others.  Mrs. Barton was smiling, a few tears in her eyes, and her gentle, kind expression spoke of approval.  Clint held his wife’s hand, and gave Wanda a nod of understanding.  She knew he could read the gratitude in her eyes.  Then there was Natasha.  Her expression was closed, distant.

 

Luckily the children were there to break the tension.

 

“Mom! Can Auntie Nat play Mario Kart with us now?” the eldest boy, Cooper, called out from the sitting room.  “And maybe Wanda too!  I bet she’s never played Mario Kart if she’s not from America!”

 

***

“The blue turtle shell destroys the leader?” Wanda asked Cooper.  “That is ridiculous!  This game does not make sense.”

 

“It’s not supposed to make sense, its supposed to be fun,” Lila said with all the confidence of a young child.

 

“Yeah,” Cooper echoed.  “You should probably pick Bowser for your next try.  He’s heavier, won’t slide around as much.”

 

Wanda sighed, and in spite of herself picked the large dinosaur creature for the next round of her humiliating defeat at the hands of children.  It was, she admitted to herself, somewhat fun.

 

***

Natasha let Wanda drive home.  Wanda thought that might have something to do with the several drinks Natasha had with Clint, but she enjoyed the chance to put more hours on her learner’s licence.  She was a little worried about taking the test, but Sam had been helping to teach her how to drive.  He had been a good teacher.

 

“You meant it, didn’t you?” Natasha asked, but she did not look at Wanda.  Instead, she gazed abstractedly outside at the surrounding country as they passed it by.

 

“What did I mean?  That Mario Kart is a game designed by mad-men who care nothing for the development of children?  Yes, though it is fun,” she said.  Natasha laughed softly.

 

“No, though I happen to agree.  Glad you were there to take the brunt of the gaming this time.  Normally they rope me into it.”  She shook her head.  “I was talking about you calling me a hero, when you were holding Nate.”

 

“Of course,” Wanda said.  “You have saved many lives, I know this.  More, I know you have been afraid but done the good thing anyway.  That is what heroes do, I have learned.  When they are scared, they look at the fear and do what must be done regardless.  You do this, not only in a fight, but to help a friend as well.”  Wanda smiled at Natasha, though she was careful to only take her eyes off the road for a moment.

 

“I don’t know if that will ever wash away the things I’ve done, the bad,” Natasha said, and Wanda could feel the other woman’s roiling emotions: sorrow, revulsion, anger, hate, fear.  Wanda took a deep breath to steady herself, employing a breathing exercise Vision had crafted for her.  

 

“Nothing will wash it away.  The past is the past, whether anyone knows about it or not.  What matters is who you are now, I think.  Maybe it is not about balancing scales, but about becoming something other than what you were.  I am not the same as I was, even a few months ago.  I am not that scared, angry person any longer.  You have changed as well, from what you once were.  And who you are now is a hero,” she said, and then nodded, satisfied with her answer.

 

“Thank you Wanda,” Natasha said, a sad smile playing across her face for the barest of moments.  “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”  They drove the rest of the way in silence, but a companionable one, neither feeling the need to speak because they had said all they need to say at that moment in time.  It was, Wanda thought, like having a family again.


	6. Chapter 6

Wanda sat down at the table, her plate full of unhealthy American food.  Still in the last gasp of adolescence, she ate nearly as much as Captain Rogers some days.  Her powers also drained her, and after training this morning, she was in fine form for lunch.

 

“Girl, I have no idea where you put all that, but my sisters would be jealous,” Sam said, giving her a crooked grin.  Wanda smiled in return.

 

“They should try training with everyone here.  Then they will be able to eat like this,” she said.

 

“Hey,” Rhodey interrupted, “you know you’ve been training with us for a while, but you don’t have a code name yet.”

 

Wanda frowned.  “Do I need one?  I thought my identity was well known.”

 

“Yeah, but you know how military organizations are,” Natasha drawled, “they just love having fancy names for everything, people included.”

 

“And its for safety in the field,” Captain Rogers said, to the collective groan of everyone at the table, “And it does sound cool,” he continued, his expression deadpan, but his eyes full of laughter.  Wanda was learning to appreciate that Captain Rogers played his role to perfection, and enjoyed breaking out of it when it would amuse himself, if no one else.

 

“Vision doesn’t have a code name,” she objected.  She was not quite sure why she was objecting per se.  Maybe it was because it was silly, trite, but by the same token she was not sure what she should be called.

 

“My name and code name are the same, that is true, Wanda, but perhaps it is allowable because I am an android.  My identity is not constructed in the same way as yours might be.  Who I am here, and who I am in the field are one and the same.  I think humans require some kind of separation, so they can do their fieldwork, and then still come home,” he said, his expression as kind and patient as it always was.  Wanda gauged the reactions of the others to this analysis, and before she would have sensed profound discomfort from her fellow human beings to hear an android talk about them all in such a manner, but now they seemed to be thoughtful, mulling over his insight.

 

“That is probably the most sensible reason for it that I have heard yet,” Wanda said, smiling at Vision.  “And I think I know what I would like to be called.”

 

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Sam said.  Wanda’s smile turned sharp as she let her powers manifest briefly, giving an unsettling edge, and the scarlet light flickering across her eyes.

 

“They call me a witch, you know.  They say it like I would curse their children or their cows.  So I think that I shall take that word away from them, and make it my own,” she said, her voice strong.  “I’ll be the Scarlet Witch.”

 


End file.
